


one look, dark room

by thepalebluedot



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty's only there for like a second, M/M, Sharing a Bed, inspired by taylor swift lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepalebluedot/pseuds/thepalebluedot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will isn't going to let it be a big deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one look, dark room

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before the update where Lardo got dibs, so in this fic Shitty’s dibs went to Nursey because they're Andover buddies, which was inspired by [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4714667/chapters/10768976) incredible fic, and Jack put his for the lottery because he didn’t want to have to pick favorites, so maybe Ollie or Wicks got it, but the point is neither Dex nor Chowder live in the Haus in this fic.  
> Also, a huge thank you to ziimbits for betaing, this is my first fic in this fandom and first fic I've written in a while so any constructive criticism is welcome!!

Will wasn’t around for the Blizzard of New York. Because it happened in the seventies, obviously, and besides that he’s never even been to New York. But if he _had_ been alive in New York in the winter of 1978, he figures it might have looked something like the whiteout that’s raging outside the Haus.

He’s been staring out the front window for a while now. He can’t even see the front lawn; everything past the top step is a mesmerizing, swirling grey. It’s a little scary, in a detached sort of way. He’s safe inside in the warm light of the Haus, but knows how it would feel to be out in the storm, the numbing cold, the icy pinpricks of sleet on his skin.

When it started up, Bitty declared that no one was allowed back outside. When it got worse, Holster went around and put chairs under the front and back doors, which seems kind of unnecessary if you ask Will. The Haus isn’t a ramshackle dooryard tool shed. Will knows that the ceiling isn’t going to collapse under the weight of the snow and that the walls aren’t going to be torn down by the wind, but the way they’re creaking isn’t exactly reassuring. It occurs to him that Holster might have moved the chairs so the doors wouldn’t blow open.

Still, he doesn’t know why the hell anyone would _want_ to go outside right now. He doesn’t think anyone in the Haus has a death wish, except maybe Ransom, who was muttering about how none of them would survive a Canadian winter. But Will’s lived in Massachusetts his whole life; he’s seen some pretty awful winters, neck high snow drifts and cars completely buried. More than once he’s had to shovel his way out the front door.

Nothing quite like this though, so. Fuck Canada. 

 

He misses Jack. Ransom has his Canadian moments, but not nearly as often as Jack did. Will smiles, remembering the way he was last winter in all of his Canadian glory. He wore nothing but a windbreaker in the middle February and went for walks when it snowed. Once, he convinced Ransom to drive with him to some store forty five minutes away to buy maple butter.

He and Jack were never close, but sometimes he finds himself missing him and Shitty anyways. Frog year nostalgia, maybe.

 

* * *

 

“You’re with Nursey for tonight,” Bitty says. “Hope that’s okay.”

Will nods. “Sure.”

It makes sense; he’s closer with Nursey than he is with anyone else living in the Haus, and Bitty’s probably going to share with Lardo.

It makes sense, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t panicking. He and Nursey are _Friends_ now, capital letter and everything. Will doesn’t want to fuck it up by doing something stupid and Nursey’s bed in the dark at three in the morning sounds like both the worst and the best. It’s easy to admit things in the dark, when you can’t see each other’s faces, when you can blame everything on exhaustion. Friends share beds sometimes; it isn’t a big deal. Will isn’t going to let it be a big deal.

 

“We aren’t gonna let him sleep on it, are we?” Bitty says concernedly, staring down at the health hazard they call a couch. Chowder had passed out on it before it started snowing, and no one really knows what to do with him now that they can’t just wake him up and walk him home.

“Well, I mean. He’s already asleep,” Nursey shrugs. “Isn’t it kind of too late?”

Will stares at the giant stain taking up the middle cushion, half hidden under Chowder’s hoodie. He’s lying face down. He’s probably drooling. Will doesn’t really want to wake him up, but.

“We can put a sheet on it,” he offers.

 

Bitty disappears to find some spare sheets and leaves Will and Nursey to try and wake up Chowder, which is a chore in and of itself because Chowder sleeps like the dead. The kid can fall asleep anywhere, anytime, if he’s tired enough. It’s kind of impressive. It’s a skill that Will sometimes envies.

 

It takes both of them to get him conscious and standing, and even then they have to hold him. Chowder leans on Nursey, upright but still half asleep as Bitty throws a few layers of sheets over the cushions. He drops back onto the couch as Bitty tries to wrestle a pillowcase on one of the square pillows from the arm chair, and he’s asleep again less than a minute later. Ransom throws an extra blanket down the stairs for him because, snowstorm. It’s fucking cold.

They spread it out it on top of him, making sure to cover his feet, and it feels weirdly parental, like the three of them are tucking in their eight year old son instead of just looking out for a friend. Chowder’s kind of like everyone’s kid. He’s grown up a lot since last year, but sometimes Will forgets they’re the same age, still feels compelled to look out for him.

 

“I feel like I should kiss him on the forehead or something,” Nursey says as they troop up the stairs.

Bitty laughs. “Next time we’ll read him a bedtime story.”

Will grins. “We’ll find him one about sharks.”

 

* * *

 

Will beats Nursey through the door of his room and heads straight for the bed, where he flops face down on it. Nursey laughs, and Will can hear him moving around and opening drawers. Something fabric lands on his head a few moments later.

“Rude,” he says, rolling over and grabbing the sweatpants Nursey threw at him. Nursey, who is digging through his dresser, shirtless. Will is definitely not staring. It’s not like Nursey without a shirt is something he’s never seen before; they share a locker room stall, there isn’t much room for modesty, but still.

His bedroom isn’t the locker room, and pajamas pants aren’t hockey pads. It feels more personal, for some reason.

Will tries not to think about it.

 

He changes while Nursey brushes his teeth, and he leaves his stuff in a pile on the desk chair.

“Nice groutfit,” Nursey teases.

“Fuck off,” Will grumbles, but he can’t really defend himself. He’s sleeping in the t-shirt he wore today, because it’s just a t-shirt, it’s comfortable, but it’s the same grey as his borrowed sweatpants. He looks like a dumbass. He knows. Whatever. It’s not like anyone else is going to see.

 

Nursey has a double bed, but it’s not like either of them are small. It’s still a bit of a tight fight.

Nursey turns out the light and climbs under the comforter. Will is lying on his side facing the wall and Nursey brushes against Will’s back as he shifts around trying to get comfortable.

Will tries not to think about it.

He focuses on his breathing, trying to keep it steady. Inhale, exhale. Lie still, don’t kick around the sheets. Lie still and breathe and wait to fall asleep.

“Chill, man,” Nursey mumbles.

“Fuck off.”

“Fucking. Dex, Christ.” His voice is gravelly, words slurring together in exhaustion. “Loosen up, dude, s’like sleeping with a wooden board.”

Will tries to relax, to let go of all the tension wound up around his rib cage. He breathes, lets his body slump into the mattress. He guesses it works, because Nursey doesn’t bring it up again. The tightness in his chest eases.

 A few minutes later, Nursey whispers, “G’night.” 

“Night,” Will murmurs.

 

The wind howls outside. The walls creak, and the floorboards moan.

There’s a heavy comforter and a blanket, but it’s still fucking cold.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Nursey whispers, “Dex,” but he knows that his eyelids have gone heavy and that he’s halfway to sleep.

“Mmhm.”

“You’re my best friend,” Nursey says, so quiet Will almost misses it.

He opens his eyes, rolls over. Nursey is lying on his side, facing Will. They’re almost nose to nose.

“So’re you. Mine,” he mumbles, and Nursey smiles at him in the dark.

Will smiles back, too afraid to say anything else, afraid he might ruin the moment or reveal how he really feels about this whole situation, about him in Nursey’s bed, face to face, mere inches away. He lets his eyes fall closed. Nursey’s breath ghosts across his face.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A groutfit is just when you're wearing all grey, like grey sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, etc. It's not a real word and it might just be used around where I live?? I see it used a lot, but in case you didn't know what it was, that's it.
> 
> There is going to be another chapter, and I'll try to get it up as soon as I can, but I have school and I just got my first real job that isn't babysitting (!!) so I have to re-figure out how to time manage. But I promise it will happen.


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